


Why Don't You Slip Into Something A Little More Comfortable?

by West_Coast_Moper



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, M/M, Mention of cross dressing, Possessive Behavior, Shitty attempts at being funny tbh, Shower Sex, Slight cross dressing (Not really)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 10:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4560378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/West_Coast_Moper/pseuds/West_Coast_Moper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Patrick realizes something's up with him is when he sees Pete wearing a skirt as a "joke", and by joke he means something only Pete would do, fuckin' Pete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Don't You Slip Into Something A Little More Comfortable?

The first time Patrick realizes something's up with him is when he sees Pete wearing a skirt as a "joke", and by joke he means something only Pete would do, fuckin' Pete.

 

"What the actual hell?" Patrick marveled, eyes wide in awe and mouth agape he's pretty sure he looks like a fish out of water right now but, Pete just gives him a wide toothy grin. "Don't ask," He answers, "But my ass looks like, really good in this, right?" Pete wiggles his hips, trying to look seductive, but in itself it's kind of ridiculous with the way his briefs are visible and his expression too intense, like he's trying too hard.

 

It's still screwing around with Patrick head though--and like maybe the fact that his jeans are tightening, but that probably doesn't have anything to do with this--probably.

 

"No matter what you say, I'm going to ask why you are in a god damn skirt when we only have five minutes away from sound check." Pete shrugs, tilting his head and shows off his throat somewhat in an attempt to provoke Patrick, but Patrick's not gonna fall for that shit right now.

 

" _Pete._ " He warns, narrowing his eyes, Pete sighs loudly. "I'm not actually gonna wear it dude, chill."

 

Relief and disappointment swell in the center of Patrick's chest, but he disregards the ladder altogether. "I'm pretty sure if you did, you'd break the universe--so good."

 

Pete gives a small grin. "You know me, I thrive off of breaking shit." Patrick snorts out a laugh and rolls his eyes, but sadly he's inclined to agree. "Yep, just don't break my heart, douche."

 

"Course not, dick." Pete responds immediately, eyes playfully bright with malicious intent, before he bends slightly to pull down the skirt and Patrick goes tense, breath coming out in ragged puffs, now Pete's just standing in the middle of the dressing room in only boxers and a ripped, tattered tank top, what the  _fuck?_

 

"Really Pete?" Patrick groans, "You couldn't of waited until I left?" Pete scoffs. "What?--It's called a dressing room for a reason, isn't it?" He giggles, twisting his hips again to yank down his briefs. "Wha-Pete what are you doing?" Patrick demands, grinding his jaw as he's trying to ignore the fact that there's a half naked Pete in the process of becoming fully naked right in front of him.

 

"Changing,  _duh._ " He says like it's the utmost obvious thing in the world, well, it is but, what the _fuck?_

 

Pete suddenly lets out a loud braying laugh. "You're only mad, 'cause it makes you hot, right?" He cranes his neck to give Patrick a wanton look. eyes dark and filled of lust, "Rick, if we had time I'd totally blow you but, y'know." He adds, a sly smile stretching across his face, before he strides over to his bag and slings it over his shoulder.

 

Patrick stares, expression blank, he's certainly not looking at Pete's ass and his line of vision is certainly not cast downward--okay it is but, fuck, can you blame him? It's right there, round and bare and almost as if it's beckoning him forward.

 

"My eyes are up here, Trick--Not that I mind, of course." Pete's lips curl into a smirk and Patrick can practically feel the smugness radiating off of him.

 

"Of course you don't, you obviously want the attention there.." Patrick murmurs, crossing the room slowly to lean up close behind Pete's somewhat bent physique, his breath wet and hot against the nape of his neck.

 

"Especially with the way you're bending." Patrick coos, trailing his hand down Pete's side, barely making contact with the skin.

 

Pete gives a high pitched squeak when Patrick grasps at his ass. "Right?" Patrick asks, snaking his tongue out to lick the outer shell of Pete's ear, blowing gently. Pete shivers happily and lets out a shaky breath he didn't know he was holding in. "R-right." Patrick hums, kneading his hand lightly, "Y'know you're lucky that Joe and Andy aren't here at the moment, but unlucky 'cause we don't have enough time to do any of the deeds I know you wanna do..."

 

A breathy whine erupts from Pete's throat as Patrick squeezes harder, the rough callused covered pads leaving light red imprints and maybe even bruises, but unfortunately for Pete, Patrick's hand goes lax and releases the flesh of his ass. "Rick--"

 

"No." Patrick declines the hope in Pete's tone and the big wide pleading eyes with practiced ease.

 

"B-but-"

 

Patrick shakes his head. "Nope." He sighs, "Maybe later." He adds as an after thought, and pats Pete softly on the head, before doing a half jog out of the room as to not be late for sound check and look like a fucking idiot.

 

But if he's honest, the half jog thing probably already made him look like a dumb ass.

 

-

Patrick shuffles into the hotel room to see the sight of Joe and Pete in the midst of a battle to the death, well y'know on halo, and it's not much of a battle, for Joe is kicking Pete's ass brutally. Aww...That's his job.

 

Patrick sneaks quietly behind them, humming quietly. "This looks a bit one sided." He muses in an obnoxious tone, Pete lurches forward in fright, dropping the controller and letting it clatter to the floor.  _"Paaatrick,_ dude, what the shit? _"_

 

Patrick shrugs, putting on an innocent demeanor. "What?" He asks, fluttering his eyelashes. Pete shakes his head. "You are a monster." He deadpans, "And you need to be destroyed."

 

Patrick waves him off. "You'd miss me too much." Pete opens his mouth to let loose if Patrick's accurate a counter in retaliation to his response, though cut off when Joe's hollers in victory, throwing his arms up into the air, he shifts to glance at Patrick, arching an eyebrow. "I'd thank you and all, but I was already kicking Wentz ass so.."

 

"Was not." Pete grumbles, slapping his hands lightly against Joe's arm and Joe slaps back, thus leading them into fake wrestling, at least Patrick thinks it's fake.

 

Pete lets loose a war cry, climbing atop of Joe and clawing at his chest. "I'll fuck you up, you fro with eyes." He crows, Joe scoffs and throws Pete off quickly reversing their roles, and easily pinning Pete to the grimy rug like beige carpet. "Whatever fringe, you ain't no match for me."

 

Pete twists and squirms underneath Joe's weight, and lets out an exasperated breath when he realizes he's already lost, so being Pete he decides to sass his way to victory instead. "Really? Fringe? That's all you got?" He retorts, pulling his upper lip back to bare his teeth, meanwhile Patrick's watching all of this go down with wide darkened eyes, jealousy pooling at the bottom of his stomach, and yeah he shouldn't be, for this is an everyday occurrence--practically a routine--almost.

 

But Patrick just can't help the way his previous lazy grin contorts into a heavy almost scowling frown, or the way his arms move to cross tightly around his middle, or even the way his eyes begin to flame with envy, resentment.

 

It's childish he knows that, but he knows for a fact that he's truly atrocious at controlling it. He also might be a little more possessive then he formerly assumed--but then again he's never liked others playing with his things. His things. _His._

 

A growl festers deep in in his stomach and tries to creep up his throat though, he hastily chokes it down. They really sort of haven't told anyone about their "special relationship" yet, he's not even sure if it is a relationship, well, it all began with them making out in the back of a van and he doesn't actually remember how that started.

 

All Patrick knows is he was half awake and Pete was peppering light kisses on his cheek and y'know he "accidentally" turned his face and those pecks on the cheek turned into Patrick's tongue in Pete's mouth, which led to Pete's mouth on his dick, and maybe Patrick's fingers straying elsewhere, but whatever.

 

Growling would lead to questions which would lead to answers, answers he doesn't have. Honestly he's angry at himself for even being upset, it's ridiculous reall--wait is--Pete.

 

Pete the little abomination is smirking at him, _what the fuck?_

 

Okay--well now he has a reason. Pete's fucking asking for it--wait that's exactly what he's asking for, well Patrick isn't about to let him win, his lips quirk into a sly grin.

 

"Well, I think I'm gonna catch up on sleep, later dumb and dumber--" Pete makes a noise of protest, finally managing to escape Joe's clutches, bucking his hips erratically to make the lock on him falter and loosen, he staggers up right, almost stumbling and tumbling over.

 

"W-what?" Pete asks, voice sounding in the depths of croaky and desperate, as he quickly steps over to stand in front of Patrick.

 

Patrick makes a thoughtful sound. "Or maybe I'll just a take a shower.." Pete juts his bottom lip out, dialing up his puppy dog eyes full force, eyes shimmering as though they're silently pleading, and Patrick's sure he is.

 

Patrick bites the inside of his cheek, halting in his unpleasant scheme--he wants to get off just as much as Pete, it's been a while since they've just been able to fool around by themselves, not a care in the world about who or what could find them--or overhear them--maybe he should just..

 

He narrows his eyes till they're dark little slits, a smirk etching its way into his face when a discreet shudder sweeps over Pete's figure, shudder turning into a jump and a grimace when Joe's voice sounds throughout the room. "Alright man, I'm gonna go annoy Andy--or sleep--wait who's driving tomorrow?

 

"That'd be you." Patrick mutters, shrugging his jean jacket off, while Pete gives a watchful eye, tongue curling out to lap at his bottom lip in a way that could be presumed as only moistening chapped lips, no at all hidden ulterior motives, but Patrick knows-- _oh he definitely knows._

 

"Shit." Joe groans, standing up, "Yeah I'm gonna go hit the sheets, see you in the morning, fedora and guyliner..Maybe, as long as you two don't end up killing each other."

 

Pete snorts, flipping Joe the bird, and Patrick wonders whether or not he'll be hitting the sheets in a different way tonight.

 

"'Kay man, and no promises." Patrick quips and Joe gives him a look of distrust. "If I come in here tomorrow to find the battered body of a bloodied bassist, I'll know it was you." Maybe not death but he might be battered for a different reason.

 

Patrick shrugs, spinning around to seize the bag of his extra clothes, clothes which he totally needs to wash sometime, 'cause damn. "You'll never catch me, for I am a mastermind--also you'd have no proof."

 

"Right." Joe says, rolling his eyes. "Whatever, try not to die Pete."

 

"Don't we all?" Pete asks, putting a hand to his heart dramatically, squeezing his eyes shut tightly and making what seems to be a pained expression. Patrick's pretty sure Joe's face just distorted into a wall with a defined crack, well, in this case a frown. "Don't get all deep on me now, I wanna sleep not think about the inevitability of life and death."

 

"That's almost all of my thoughts  though." Pete laughs, "Well, fifty percent, the other fifty is about the red head with the sideburns you'll never forget." At that Patrick gives him a dirty look.

 

"What about that other ten percent?" Joe asks, laying a hand on his hip and cocking it slightly, Pete's eyebrows pull together in confusion. "What?"

 

"Gotta have that one hundred and ten percent man." He answers like everyone knew and, apparently it's true because Patrick nods his head in addition to Joe, "Make the other ten percent Doritos." He declares, clapping his hands together.

 

"Dude, yes." Pete shakes his head in agreement, Joe on the other hand taps a finger against his chin in thought. "What about Cheetos though?" Pete hums, the skin around his eyes crinkling slightly. "Are we talking the puffs or the crunch?"

 

"Crunch, please." Patrick mutters, and then his own eyes squint in puzzlement. "How the fuck did we go from farewell to talking about Cheetos."

 

Joe shrugs, bending over to grab at a pillow. "Just friendship I guess." Patrick shakes his head and tightens the hold on his bag, in case it decides to slide out of his grasp. "Whatever man, I have a shower to take."

 

"And I have a cushion to momentarily die on so--" "Didn't you just tell me not to die?" Pete interrupts, advancing towards Patrick slowly and throwing himself up against his side, and nuzzling his face into Patrick's neck.

 

Patrick lets it slide, it's not really abnormal for Pete to sprawl himself over him as if he's his own personal pillow, quite normal actually.

 

"I told you not to die, didn't say anything about me." Joe replies, beginning to stroll out of the room though, stopping in his steps when Patrick says, "Don't die, 'cause then we gotta find another guitarist and," Patrick lets out a loud breath of exhaustion, "we don't have time for that."

 

Joe rolls his eyes, flailing a hand lightly before he trots out of the room, opening and swinging the door shut as he leaves and Patrick can almost make out a faint voice of, "Yeah, yeah."

 

Pete stares as the door swings shut, then quickly presses himself harder into Patrick's side, trying to make him aware of the little "problem" in his jeans or "gift", depends on how you look at it, really.

 

"Pete, I'm taking a shower." Patrick announces, breaking swiftly from the grip.

 

Pete whines, pawing at Patrick's chest. " _Pleeease,_ I can join you--I'll make you feel so  _goood..._ " Patrick goes stiff, he grits his teeth and then sighs in defeat.

 

"Fine, you better behave."

 

"Don't I always?"

 

"No."

 

-

Patrick ends up getting shoved into the shower by a very impatient Pete, and nails begin to dig into his shoulders as a mouth connects to his roughly, Patrick moves against the shower wall gently, creeping a hand up Pete's spine, tickling his neck lightly and feeling a slight shiver before gripping hard on dampened black strands and tugging Pete away from him.

 

Pete yelps in protest, pulling against the hold and groaning from the pain when he doesn't succeed.

 

"You know I said behave, right?" Patrick asks, clucking his tongue, "Also if I'm correct I remember you saying "You'd make me feel so good" so why don't you get to it?"

 

Maybe he's the impatient one, once again can you blame him? Pete stares at him with wide eyes, pupils slowly dilating, He's not really sure whether Pete actually enjoys being dominated or if he only does it for Patrick's benefit, he's hoping the former.

 

Pete gives him a small smirk and opens his mouth rather obscenely an exaggerated moan slipping out when Patrick yanks just tiny bit harder.

 

"You're gonna have to let go then." Pete replies, grinning, and inches closer to rub his nose against Patrick's, a hum of contentment sounding from his throat.

 

Patrick yanks him back again and Pete's smirk flips into a disappointed pout. "Patrick, let go." He commands, with a gleam of intensity in his eyes. "You know--I'm supposed to be the one giving orders."

 

"Well, why don't you let go for a while so I can make it up to you.." Pete bites his lip, straining against Patrick's hand and tips his head back as best as he can, droplets of warm water running down the skin of his neck, almost making it shimmer, almost, which looks extremely delectable in Patrick's eyes.

 

Patrick tilts his head before leaning in and trailing soft pecks up the line of Pete's throat before giving a gentle lick, at this Pete giggles and Patrick pulls back quirking an eyebrow in question.

 

"Tickles--or should I say trickles." Pete says, a snort of laughter escaping him.

 

He yelps when Patrick yanks him down forcing him to sink to his knees and kneel. Pete glances up through his eyelashes locking his gaze with Patrick. "Hi." Patrick rolls his eyes and flicks Pete on the nose.

 

"Make yourself useful, you freak." Patrick says, thrusting his hips slightly indicating where Pete's attention should be. Pete beams, though his beam turns into a sly grin as he leans forward and snakes his tongue out to lick the swelled head of Patrick's cock.

 

Patrick takes in a shuddering breath, and moves his freehand down to guide Pete's mouth open wider with his fingers, and rubs a fingertip across Pete's flushed bottom lip. "So pretty.." He murmurs quietly. Pete groans at that and bends eagerly to slurp the head into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks ever so slightly.

 

Patrick hisses, tangling his fingers more so into Pete's hair and Pete whimpers around Patrick's cock, the vibration causing Patrick to let out a gruff moan, which Pete mimics. Pete licks and laps at the underside, before dragging his tongue across the slit causing Patrick's thighs to jump and twitch.

 

"Pete,  _fuck._ " Patrick groans, slamming his head back against the wall as he bucks his hips hard, pushing his cock deeper into Pete's mouth and Pete half chokes, bringing a hand up to grasp at Patrick's side, stilling the movement.

 

Patrick growls, tone of voice turning into a husky rasp. "I know you can take it." He licks his lips, "So  _fucking_   _take it._ "

 

Patrick grips Pete by the hair yanking him forward onto his cock and Pete gags, the tight muscle of his throat rippling deliciously over the head.

 

"See, knew you could do it doll.." Patrick sighs, and Pete can hear the clear admiration in his voice causing a shrill whine to form in the back of his throat, he swallows around Patrick and suckles before moving the hand from Patrick's side to circle around the base of what he can't reach.. _yet._

 

Pete massages his fingers lightly, and traces his tongue over a vein, he sucks harder, the flavor of Patrick hitting his taste buds and he groans again, louder this time. The rhythm of Patrick's hips falter, the hand in Pete's hair twitching and Pete knows he's close, once Patrick comes it's his turn.

 

"Fuck--Pete, god--y'know next time, y-you should we-wear panties--fuck that'd be so fucking hot, d-do you have a-any idea?" Patrick grunts, accidental filthy words though honest spilling from him, which he'll come to regret later but right now his entire body feels of fire, like he's turning into ashes and his head a blurry mess, Pete's the one doing this to him--he always is.

 

Pete squeaks but that only makes Patrick buck harder, only two thoughts swimming through the haze of his mind, one being the previous image of Pete in a skirt and the other being the desperate need to  _come, come, come._

 

Patrick inhales sharply, quickly tearing away from Pete and jerking roughly to the side, his entire body giving one great throb as his come shoots in several thin white ropes, splattering against the shower room wall, and he belts out a boisterous groan of Pete's name.

 

He collapses against the wall out of breath, his chest heaving, while Pete lays his forehead onto his thigh, gasping for air, just as out of breath, probably more so from the risk of almost choking to death. "'M s-sorry--" Patrick wheezes, trying to apologize though, his breathing messed is up all to hell at the moment and he can't make out the words.

 

Pete lets out a small laugh, his voice sounding grated, hoarse, and Patrick knows he's the one who did that, he's the one who put that rasp there, the one who made Pete's throat scratchy and raw, and that shouldn't put a sense of predatory satisfaction in his chest, but it does, it makes his entire body unwind, his head content, because he's put that sense of ownership there, that mark, and he'd rest, but Pete's hard and filled with want and he understands, it wouldn't be fair to just leave him now, so he doesn't.

 

Once Patrick's regained his capability of breathing, he kneels down and grips Pete by the waist, shifting their positions, as Pete is now up against the wall.

 

He leans in close, breathing hotly against Pete's ear as he whispers, "What do you want?" Pete makes a sound close to a sob, yet not quite and that kind of disappoints Patrick, he'll make it happen though, he always does.

 

With his fingers in Pete, three to be precise, and he worked them in, opening Pete up with little to no resistance which he really didn't understand at first until Pete flashed him with a guilty smile.

 

To which he replied with forcing his fingers in deeper, searching for that little bundle of nerves that sets Pete off, begging and moaning, taut and gorgeous, thrusting his hips downward, fucking himself onto Patrick's hands roughly, rougher than Patrick normally would, and in the end he does indeed succeed in finding it.

 

" _Fuck!_ " Pete yelps, "Patrick, please I--" The pleads and begging only provoke Patrick to thrust his fingers in faster, harsher, almost painful in a way, and Pete sobs, choking and croaking out moans of pain and pleasure combining into a mix of just what Pete likes, what he wants, _no,_ needs.

 

Pete ends up coming on a loud shriek, echoing throughout the bathroom and probably waking up and alerting people on the same floor, but Patrick'll worry about that later, right now he needs to worry about the little twitchy package of his best friend in front of him. 

 

Patrick croons softly trailing a finger down Pete's cheek. "Hey, you alright?" He asks in a soothing tone, caressing whatever skin he can of Pete's within reaching distance. Pete gives him a lazy smile, purring slightly when Patrick combs his fingers through his soaked hair, almost forgetting about the tiny little fact that they're in the shower.

 

Pete hums faintly, leaning into the handful of touches. "M'fine, jus' tired." He yawns, smacking his lips. Patrick looks at him with soft eyes, leaning in to press his lips against Pete's forehead. "Let's go to bed then."

 

"Don't we have a shower to take?" Pete mumbles, eyelids drooping as he lets out yet another yawn. Patrick sighs, nodding his head. "Yeah, here, lean against my chest and I'll wash you."

 

Pete follows his instructions though, with great difficulty for he's barely half awake and Patrick's fairly sure Pete fell asleep whilst being washed though he can't really blame the other, 'cause he's fairly sure he also fell asleep whilst washing Pete.

 

-

 

They stumble and stagger into one of the beds, naked despite the fact that Patrick brought clothes into the bathroom though in the end both of them were too lazy to even make the effort to actually shrug them on. Pete snuggles into his chest as Patrick thrusts the blankets over them, and wraps his arms around Pete, pressing his nose into the slight damp and drippy hair, normally that would be an off putting act, but he's too exhausted to really care.

 

He inhales deeply, trailing his fingers gently over Pete's shoulder blades and tracing them in unsystematic patterns.

 

Pete smothers a giggle against Patrick's shoulder and nuzzles his cheek into the crook of his neck, Patrick makes a small pleased noise, shifting and tangling himself slightly into the sheets, while pressing his back against the mass of pillows the bed somehow accommodates for.

 

He closes his eyes, a relaxed breath leaving his mouth as he tightens his arms around Pete into a delicate hold, Pete paws at his chest, sitting up to press his lips against his cheek before lying back down.

 

Patrick's head begins to cloud, thoughts dimming and he's almost unconscious when he hears a barely audible voice say, "I might just take you up on that offer to wear panties by the way.."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh I wonder if I'm getting better at this.


End file.
